


Remembering

by sp00kworm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America the Winter Soldier, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: After Events of Film, Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt, Finding Himself, Gen, Guilt, Gun Violence, Memory Loss, Repressed Memories, Resolution, Violence, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Takes place after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier)<br/>The Winter Soldier finds himself lost with the inevitable downfall off Hydra. The Captain claimed to know him. He'd called him 'Bucky' the day they'd fought on the free way. Not knowing who he was, or what was true, he'd pulled the injured Captain America from the lake after the hellicarriers crashed. He set off on the run. No one knew him, and he didn't know them. The only thing they knew about him was his murdering of innocent people, and disappearance, after, like a ghost. Hydra had ripped his past from him...and he intended to reclaim it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, after the film came out on DVD, and came across it again recently. Its a bit of an exploration of the events I think took place after the end of the film. I might make another part if any one wants one, because I seemed to have started another extra part anyway.  
> (Double spacing means a flashback, time movement, or a movement from past to reality again)

The soldier huffed quietly as he entered the tree line. His shoulder length chocolate hair was matted and clung to his face while dark, make-up circles surrounded his brooding icy blue eyes. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin and he was in desperate need of a wash to get rid of the blood and sweat covering his skin. The assassin had hauled the star spangled blond to shore and left him for S.H.I.E.L.D to find and recover. What had he been called...Captain Rodgers? Steve? Captain America? The names swam around his mind, which was clouded from the Hydra mind wiping. The names seemed familiar but try as he might he could only draw a blank. A dull throb ensued every time he focused on the man’s face and after squinting and stumbling over tree roots, he eventually gave up trying. Resting against a trunk of a pine tree, the soldier applied a little pressure to his left side with his metal arm, the other rested over his stomach, painfully dislocated. He winced, definitely a couple of broken ribs. Grunting, he pushed himself off of the tree and onward through the dense foliage. He couldn’t allow himself to be captured by S.H.I.E.L.D, not yet anyway. Hydra was collapsing in on itself but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be out, looking to wipe his memories again. Officials weren’t dead until you found the flesh.

The whipping of helicopter blades over the tree tops caused the Winter Soldier to press himself against the bark of a thick tree. The humming grew distant and, when he was sure it was safe, he continued through the trees, stumbling as his heavy booted feet began to drag. The fight he’d got into with his target was brutal, and had taken a lot of his energy. Both were quite evenly matched, although the three bullets we had fired into the blond had been enough to give him the upper hand. Several punches later he’d saved the guy’s behind and was running from nearly every government agency in America. “’Cause I’m with ya til’ the end of the line.” The words were replaying constantly in his mind. Growling, he shook his head free from the thought and crouched as he came to a clearing.

Police officers stood around several patrol cars with yellow and black striped barriers in place. Guns were holstered at their sides and one spoke into a radio on his shoulder. They’d cornered off the entire woods, the only way out was to fight. Crawling on his belly, the Winter Soldier reached a large bush and gently peeled back the leaves. His strikes needed to be quick and accurate so he could escape with minimum effort. He was injured enough already. Pulling the fitted mask over his mouth he wiped his face of all emotion and held a stony, focused glare. Swiftly, he crept up behind an unsuspecting officer. Unconsciously, his metal, cybernetic arm, shot out and landed a punch to the side of his head. Before the officer could hit the floor, the soldier had his pistol and fired two shots, one after another, taking down two more policemen. The unit was slow to respond and drew their guns as he shot another officer, moving towards one of the cars.  
The officer previously speaking into his radio frantically shouted into his shoulder.  
“The Winter Soldier! I repeat, the Winter Soldier is on the northern third perimeter!” A quick shot to the chest ended his report. The remaining officers began to cower and a few scattered in hopes of finding some form of backup, if it wasn’t already on its way. The fleeing men allowed the soldier to pass relatively unhindered. Grabbing a long raincoat from the closest patrol car, he prepared himself to run. The blaring of sirens drawing nearer caught the brown eyed assassin’s attention. Growling deep in his chest, he moved quickly, breaking into as quick a run as his injuries would allow. The wailing grew louder and shouts of further reinforcements sounded behind the soldier.  
“Move it! Move it!” Officers began to converge on him from behind clad in black, bullet proof equipment. His breathing became more and more erratic as he pushed on, despite his injuries. He could only pray he would get out alive.

Vaulting over a fallen log, the Winter Soldier sprinted as hard and as fast as he could as the highway came into view. So long as he followed it, avoided revealing himself, and stuck to the woodland to hide from view, he could make it to the city and patch himself up. The SWAT teams called to the scene shouted behind him, their boots snapping twigs as they moved to cover lost ground. Pressing up against the trunk of a wide tree he popped out the hand pistols cartridge. Six bullets. Ironically enough to take down the unit moving in on him. Taking a few gulps of air he ran out of cover and fired two shots, getting both officers between the cracks of their bullet proof attire. As he ducked behind another tree the shots rained down on the bark. Wincing as one whizzed past his ear, he fired a return shot, hitting the target with freakish accuracy. The smell of gun powder invaded his nostrils as shots rang out. Grunting from the sudden movements he was making, the soldier paced backwards and pulled the trigger before painfully rolling behind a stump. Waiting until the firing stopped he flipped onto his belly and peered over the wood, taking out the final men in the proximity with the last of the bullets in the cartridge.

Sighing as he shakily stood on his feet, he scrutinised the scene and stumbled over to a fallen SWAT team member. His limbs were sprawled out at awkward angles that were completely unnatural for a living human. A pool of blood collected around his neck and shoulders as the severed artery in his neck spurted out metallic liquid. Emotionless, he took the M-16 that laid across his torso, loosely strapped over his shoulder. Ripping it off the body, the Winter Soldier grabbed the spare cartridges from the multiple men before moving on, with the weapon strapped to his back under the black trench coat he had acquired earlier. Regaining what little composure he had left, the frosty soldier began to run again, pushing his non-metal arm further into his stomach to ease the pain slightly. Running further along the woodland’s edge he began his journey into the city, not before casting one last glance behind him.

 

One month later and the soldier was stood in front of the famous Captain America memorial. The infamous Steve Rodgers, as he had learnt he was actually called, was stood proud in one of the holograms, his red, white and blue, patriotic uniform promoting his hero-like look. His blond hair was neatly combed and his face clean shaven with shiny baby blue eyes. His best friend. It seemed surreal. Both had fought against Hydra in World War Two. But both had been childhood friends before Steve was given the Super Soldier Serum and joined the Howling Commandos, alongside himself. There was so much he couldn’t remember. He had dressed more casually in a pair of dark blue jeans, a black long sleeved t-shirt (to hide his cybernetic arm), black leather gloves, a beige coloured coat, his chunky combat boots, and a baseball cap shadowing his face. He had managed to tame his unruly chocolate shoulder length hair which was pulled to the back of his neck, and held in place by the cap on his head. His face was still stubbly and his eyes dangerous cold blue, minus the black make-up circling them.

Trudging to the next exhibit he craned his neck to see his own face. His hair was shorter and neatly combed into place while he looked off into the distance with warm looking eyes. The automatic display began to play.  
“Best friends since childhood. Bucky Barnes and Steven Rodgers were inseparable both school yard and on the battle field. Barnes is the only commander who gave his life for his country…” The machine droned on. His name was Bucky, wasn’t that what the Captain had called him?  
“James Buchanan Barnes…” A few visitors gave him strange looks as he pronounced his name out loud. Staring at his portrait, Bucky could only gape inwardly. Everything his mission, his target, Captain America had said was…true. He was his best friend, an honourable soldier…not the Winter Soldier. Not Hydra’s assassin puppet to use. Striding onward, he read about his other comrades in the unit and even chuckled at one of Captain America’s performances. “Star Spangled Man” Laughter…he hadn’t laughed or even smiled in so long. As an assassin you couldn’t feel emotion; that made you weak and useless- in the eyes of Hydra, at least. You had to be cold, hard, calculating, and always ready to fight. Closing his eyes, Bucky, as he wanted to be called, ushered the thoughts from his mind and cleared his hurt brimmed eyes. Clouds still surrounded his memories, but small snippets of them had returned to him.

 

“It’s me. It’s Steve.” Bucky’s arms and legs suddenly fell loose.  
“Steve?”  
“Come on.”  
“Steve.” Steve’s face filled his vision with a concerned frown and hopeful blue eyes.  
“I thought you were dead.” He grinned as Steve sighed in relief. Only then did he notice his friend’s muscular form.  
“I thought you were smaller.”

 

He looked down at the long bending steel zip line they’d be travelling on.  
“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?” Steve looked remorseful.  
“Yeah, and I threw up?”  
“This isn’t payback, is it?” Steve grinned.  
“Now why would I do that?”

 

Black rimmed his vision as he felt the cold, wet snow seep into his clothes. Dizzily looking at his surroundings he peered down and caught sight of his left arm. Pain suddenly shot through his nerves. Blood dripped from the flesh as they dragged him through the bleak powder and left a metallic, red trail. He could only make out the image of his mangled arm, and then, passed out, as his strength left him.

 

When he opened his eyes again he felt a strange presence where his arm should have been. Flexing his fingers he moved his arms and hands into his line of sight. His right was peachy flesh and blood. His left glinted a bright chrome. Small, dark ridges ran through the metal prosthetic limb and he couldn’t help but trace them. A large red star was printed on his upper arm. Noticing his awakening, a scientist walked over and began to try and speak with him. His arm shot out and his hand wrapped around the man’s throat. A few gargled noises escaped his lips. He felt a sharp pain in his side before his whole bod went limp and his consciousness left him.

 

“Put him on ice.”  
The intense feeling on cold seeping into his skin from all angles. Black crawled into the corners of his vision as his skin paled and his lips turned blue. A clunk was heard and then.  
“We’ll wake him up when the time is right…”  
Darkness engulfed his consciousness.

 

Pain ripped through his skull. Any coherent thought was drowned out, or disabled completely.

 

“Wipe him.” The familiar guard in his mouth. Straps holding him down. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The growing humming sound…and then the skull splitting pain. Everything being forcefully taken from him. All the memories that made him…that made him…Who had they made him? No one…He was the Winter Soldier, no one else.

 

Bucky winced physically from the memory and shakily sighed, slowly unclenching his fists. The crowd gathering at the exhibit paid him no mind as they listened to the guide. Rolling his shoulders, he eased his tense muscles and pulled the baseball cap down by its rim subconsciously. Raising his eyes from the shiny polished floor he allowed a small smile to ghost over his cracked lips as he observed the stolen costume. Steve had actually stolen something. That in itself was enough to make everyone in the country choke in astonishment. It was why he had taken it that snatched the smile from his face. He’d taken it to fight him in. It was also an understatement to say Bucky didn’t feel immensely guilty for almost killing his supposed best friend. The guilt was a burden. All the faces of dying targets flickered across his eyes. All the lives he’d mindlessly taken. The turmoil gripping his mind was giant. How could he have done that…Unknown tears brimmed his eyes and threatened to slip. Bucky could only wipe at them furiously. He couldn’t show anyone his face, lest he be recognised. It was all something he would never get over. Three bullets and six punches from his metal fist was what it took to smash up his face fairly well, and near enough kill him. Steve was unconscious when he’d dragged him to shore. Swallowing thickly, Bucky tried to push the memories and thoughts from his mind and focus on learning as much as he could about his past.

As he stared at the exhibit, zoning in and out of his memories, Bucky didn’t notice the young girl staring at him from behind her mother’s leg. Her large, inquisitive eyes took in the sight of the burly man painfully eyeing the exhibit, a shadow hiding his face. Swallowing her fear, she released her mother’s leg and wondered closer, eventually tugging on his jeans gently. Bucky jumped, immediately springing into a defensive posture, his metal fist ready to connect with a jaw. Scanning his surroundings he finally looked down to see the young girl hugging one hand to her chest, the other fisted into the coarse material of his bottoms. Her large glossy eyes became bright as she looked directly into his hard, brooding ones. He only watched as she motioned for him to lean down to her. Bucky did so, cautiously. The girl whispered to him quietly.  
“I think Buckwy was a bwave soldier. A-And I think Mwister Amwerica wus lucky to have a friend like that. Don’t you mwister?”

Bucky smiled weakly at the girl. He managed to answer her with a brittle, scratchy voice.  
“Yeah kid. He was.” Her mother promptly veered her away, apologising profoundly. Unknown to him, a man came to his side with a similar cap covering his face. As he looked up at the exhibit he spoke levelly.  
“I think he was lucky to have a great friend…” he chuckled dryly, “He was too lucky in fact…” Bucky nodded silently, watching the small clip play on another screen. Still the man continued. “I just wished I could’ve said something…anything…” The man was muttering to himself as though Bucky wasn’t meant to hear the utterings. Quickly he allowed his eyes to do a quick once over of the guy. Tall, muscular, blond hair, baby blue eyes…Realisation hit him like a slap to the face. It was Steve. Captain America. Steve Rodgers. Panic welled in his chest. He needed to get out. He wasn’t ready to confront Steve yet, and face the traumas of his past. Steve continued with a remorseful expression gracing his features. Bucky coughed, trying to redirect the blabber.  
“Oh sorry…I-I just…I got carried away sir, I…apologise…” Steve looked stunned as he analysed Bucky’s face as best he could as he stared at the floor.  
“Buck…is that…” Bucky bolted, “you? H-Hey! Bucky wait!!” He didn’t.

Bucky pounded around the corner towards the fire exit, Steve hot on his heels. His cap flew off revealing his chocolate, tousled hair and rugged, bearded face. He cursed under his breath and slammed the heavy door open. The bright light burning and dulling his senses for mere moments. Regardless, he sprinted as fast as he could along the streets, crowded with people.  
“Bucky! Bucky please!” Steve was unrelenting. Taking a sharp right, Bucky continued, bolting across the busy road, cars honking as he forced them to brake sharply to avoid knocking him down. Steve was slightly hesitant but followed, picking up the pace. He took another right into an alley by an apartment building. The red bricks were black in places from years against the elements. Two large green dumpsters were pushed against the wall with various black tied bags thrown carelessly next to them.

Swiftly, Bucky took the escape ladder steps two at a time, and hauled the metal from its place, with his cybernetic arm, before throwing it to the end of the alley, where it clattered noisily. With inhuman strength and speed he got to the top of the ladders as Steve pulled himself up onto the bottom. Breaking into a sprint once more, he made it to the edge of the building before Steve shouted.  
“Don’t do this Bucky!” The name shot daggers into his head and heart.  
“Shut up!” He roared as Steve took a large step forward.  
“Can we just talk?” Bucky clenched his fists and glared dangerously, “Like…old times.”  
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about! What old times!? That’s the point Steve I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Steve was hurt and visibly flinched.  
“You do know me Bucky…please…” Bucky only grew tenser and shakily sighed.  
“I’m not him anymore…your friend…And I’m not ready for…for this…See ya Steve…we’ll see each other again…hopefully.” And he jumped, the last word travelling as a whisper riding the breeze. When Steve peered over the edge, he was gone…like a leaf in the wind…

Scrubbing at the red star on his arm. Bucky prepared himself. He could never atone for the lives he’d taken as the Winter Soldier, but he could, at least, destroy the strings that once controlled him. Hydra was smaller, but not dead. “You cut off one head, and two take its place.” He could at least finish the job S.H.I.E.L.D had failed to do. Pink tinted water ran off his arm as he got the last of the star that reminded him of his assassin life. Towelling the metal thoroughly dry, he stood, clad in his old mission leathers. Bucky strapped a knife to each of his thighs. A silver pistol in his holster and the stolen M-16 strapped to his back along with a Mini Uzi between his shoulder blades. He pulled up his mask over his chin and mouth before pulling on his leather, fingerless gloves.  
“There are things from the Winter Soldier days I’m just remembering. Weapons left in the field…Dangers I can still prevent. I think that that’s the path…A way to the redemption I’ve been looking for…” 

Winter was coming to Hydra… ****

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!  
> Thanks you for reading!


End file.
